A Name Worthy of Standing the Test of Time
by CEAthena
Summary: This is based on Bram Stoker's novel, not the movie. It follows the story of Dracula's origins.


**Count Dracula: **

A Name Worthy of Standing the Test of Time By Claire Elderkin 

Blue flames rose in the night sky, so tiny they would have been invisible if not for my sharp vision. It was the last day of the year, the day when evil spirits could roam the lands unchecked. For the peasants, it was a night to go on a fool's mission for promised treasure. For me, it was night to travel the dusty roads of my mind. Only once a year am I given the privilege of seeing clearly through the vampiric thirst that plagues my being. Tonight, it is a simple matter call up the sensory delights of the past, of the world awash in sunlight and warm bodies. And the days of my death and rebirth easily come to mind.

Squinting in the harsh glare of the sun, I struggled to keep my eyes on the man in front of me. The heat of a summer afternoon caused sweat to trickle down my back. The warmth of my body a sharp contrast to the cold terror in my heart. 

"Our land is not for the taking," The man's horse voice cried. "Let the Austrian hoard come if they wish and we will gladly grant them passage to hell!"

The crowd's cheer assaulted my ears, bathing me in its enthusiasm. My father raised his rusty, chipped sword high and shouted, "Prepare for a victory!" A swell of pride rose inside me as I looked upon my father. He was an old man, past his prime, with wild gray hair. I had inherited his large forehead and thin nose. The gravelly voice he had used to inspire his people had also been skilled at weaving tales when I was a child. He had warned me of the enemies of House Dracula, of the Turks, the Hungarians, and of the Austrians. I had not thought the day would come when I would witness the wrath of our enemies. Yet here, on the wooded ground of Transylvania, the Austrians were coming. 

"Are you ready, Bartholomew?" I turned to see the grim face of my friend, Horatio. He touched my arm, the only comfort one could give in the heavy, endless moments before a battle. 

"I am of the blood of my father," I replied, clutching my sword hilt until my knuckles turned white. 

He and I could find no more words and instead we looked around us. We stood on a steep, high hill, overlooking a vast wilderness. Nearby, peasants in worn clothing hurried back and forth, each carrying heavy rocks that would create a manmade avalanche to crush the invaders. Women, children, and the elderly all helped with frantic movements. The strong men were grouped together away from the rocks. They held sharpened spears that promised to bring them glory. 

So engrossed was I in the scene, that I did not see the advancing Austrians until Horatio pointed. On a silent cue from my father, we took positions low in the grass. I was certain that my thudding heart would give us away, but instead the Austrians continued to come. Closer and closer, they neared the base of the hill. My father raised his hand in a wait signal. I did not move and tried not to breathe. Then, the moment came and my father dropped his hand. 

The silence was so complete that the bumping of rocks as they tumbled down the hillside seemed as loud as my father's shouts had been. A cry arose from the invaders, for many it was a death cry. I stood atop the hill and witnessed death for the first time. There was no remorse in me, for my father had raised me to be strong. Beside me, Horatio also stood and we stared down with our innocent eyes on the scene below. 

"Get down boys," My father hissed, hurrying over to us in a bent over walk. "You don't want to be killed. I need you to-" 

He never finished his sentence, instead collapsing to the ground with an arrow protruding from his chest. I sank to the ground beside him and waited frantically for a sign that he still breathed. After a long moment of agonizing, my father gave a cough, blood pouring from his mouth. The sight of the red liquid sickened me, turning my stomach. I grasped his hand tightly and a dim awareness that he was dying reached my brain. 

"Serve your people well, Count Dracula," he whispered to me, and then said no more. 

For a moment no one moved. The battle waged around us like a dream, not nearly as real as the body in front of me. Dimly, I became aware of Horatio shaking me, "Bartholomew…Count Dracula…our help is needed."

I gave a wordless nod and drew my sword. The Austrians had broken through our avalanche defenses and were now fighting us hand-to-hand. Had my father expected such a breach? He had not consulted me on the issue. With a yell of frustration I swung my sword in the general direction of a raider. He easily blocked me and before I had realized what had happened, I lay on the warm grass in a sea of bodies while my vision slowly faded. 

A shallow breeze caressed my face, the fingers of the wind soothing my aching head. I opened my eyes to darkness and feared my vision had been lost in the battle. What a horrid fate! To wander the world without light, only a sinister black clouding my sight. Yet soon my eyes adjusted to the night. Oh, how to describe the horror I beheld! Bodies littered the ground, each in a worse condition than the last. Even in the pale moonlight, the dried blood could be seen staining the once pure grass. For a moment, I thought all were dead, until I noticed a solitary figure crouched over a body.

"Please," I gasped as I tried through my agony to stand. "Have mercy, help me."

The figure turned toward me, causing a scream to erupt from my throat. He was pale, as white as alabaster, with a thin sinister face. His scarlet lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp knife blades for teeth. The redness dripped off the creature's mouth and I came to the startling realization that it was blood. A man near death lay at the creature's feet, his head lolled back in agony as blood poured from a wound at his neck. 

"You desire my help, young sir?" It asked in a voice that sent shivers through my body. Slowly, it advanced towards me, the movements liquid and hypnotizing.

"Stay away from me!" I fumbled for my sword.

"You're trembling young sir. Do I frighten you?"

"No."

"Do not lie to me, for I have seen centuries of lies and can find the truth with ease." He was nearing closer.

"I know how to fight, stay back." I pointed the tip of my sword at his heart.

"Perhaps you have been trained, little one. Perhaps Father has given you skilled instructors with the flick of a gold coin. But Father is no longer here and you cannot even hold that sword steady through your trembling." The creature stood only a step away, not breaking eye contact.

I took the opportunity and swung my sword in a clumsy arc. It hit the creature and blood spurted from its arm. But it only laughed.

"You are strong, young sir, and braver than I thought. Who are you?"

"I am Count Dracula." I declared with as much strength as I could muster. The name sounded strange in my ears, for it had always been that of my father.

The creature laughed harder. "Dracula," it rolled the word on its tongue, trying out each syllable. "That is a name worthy of standing the test of time." It ran its eyes over me. "But you are dying and are the last to bear your name."

My breathing came shorter as panic welled up inside. "I am not dying."

"Perhaps not," The creature said, moving closer so that our faces almost touched. "But you will die." It roughly pulled my loose hair away from my neck and ran its teeth over my throat, finding the frantic pulse. "You are strong yet; this will be the feast of a century." And then I felt a sudden pain as its teeth entered my neck. The fear left me and the pain faded, leaving only a pleasure such as I had never experienced. Weaker and weaker I grew, until the being's arm was the only reason I was upright. I was helpless in the strength of its grasp. Knowing I could not fight, I surrendered to the creature's bloodthirsty kiss.

And as suddenly as it had begun, the creature stopped. I stumbled, clutching its arm to keep from falling. My hand encountered a sticky substance on its arm: the clotting wound of my doing. Before I could stop myself, I bent my head closer to its flesh. The sight that had so sickened me that day now seemed a fascinating delicacy. My tongue flicked out and I tasted the salty liquid. The weakness faded as I continued to drink.

The creature's raucous laughter echoed across the forest, "You're a survivor, little one, a fighter. Smile as you watch your immortal soul wither and die. But remember, Count Dracula, death is only the beginning." It pulled me off like a leech and cast me to the ground. "Enough blood, little one; your strength will come from the untainted innocence, not from my sinful ambrosia. Welcome to the world of the vampires, Count Dracula." It whispered the latter in my ear and then faded into the darkness.

I watched him go, struggling to see out of fading vision. But my fighting was in vain; the claw of death held me firmly in its grasp. 

I awoke to black: darkness so complete it enveloped me in its beautiful blanket. I wanted to scream in ecstasy at the wonders of this inky world. Sight was irrelevant, for my other senses told me I was enclosed in a small area. No fear passed over me; only the feeling of safety brought on by my lack of vision. I felt comfortable, but my gnawing stomach made me restless. My body knew what to do. I pushed the top of my enclosure aside and sat up. 

Moonlight assaulted my eyes and I winced at the sudden pain. Soon, I became aware of my surroundings. I sat in a coffin, cushioned with a red satin lining. Running my hand over the carved stone, I marveled at the beauty of the box. What hand possessed the talent to craft such a home? 

The coffin sat near a high cast iron fence in a graveyard near Castle Dracula. I had only visited the place once before, but it seemed so familiar. When I looked at the other gravesites closer, I saw the freshly turned earth of countless new graves. Though I knew their cause, the memory of the battle was now dim in my mind. 

I climbed out of the coffin and began walking across the graveyard. Something pulled me; I was driven by instincts I could not comprehend. Like one in a trance, I opened the gate and stepped through. Between the trees, I could see Castle Dracula, tall and magnificent, reaching into the sky. Overriding the strange urges, I directed my feet toward my home. My body reluctantly obeyed. 

In a shorter amount of time than I expected, I had reached the great oak door of the castle. It creaked as I opened it and my ears magnified the minute sound. As it was the dead of night, no sounds emerged from the castle servants. I walked across the long hall and was mounting the spiral staircase that lead to my room when a noise made me pause.

"Who's there?" A gruff voice demanded from above me. The blazing flames of a candle came around the bend of the stairs, followed by a man. My jumbled mind recognized him as one of my servants. "Lord Bartholomew? Is that you?" He asked in astonishment, bringing the candle closer to my face.

I immediately backed away from the flames and stared at him. His face was white with surprise, but I could still see the blood throbbing in his veins. "Count Dracula is my name now." My voice sounded strange, stronger than I remembered it to be. Each word took on a sweet intonation I had not previously possessed.

"Yes, we heard news of your poor father's demise. We assumed you were dead as well, my lord."

"I am alive, as you can see." The words sounded like lies, but I could not comprehend why. 

"I am glad to hear it, sir. Shall I prepare your bedchamber, my lord?" The man asked.

I gave a wordless nod and followed him up the stairs. We entered my room. I watched him straighten the bedding and fluff the pillows. As he gave a bow and touched the handle to leave, I stopped him by clutching his wrist. His eyes widened at the painful grip of my hand. 

"My lord," He stammered. "What is it?"

"Shh," I replied. The instincts had overtaken my senses and all I could think of was that insatiable hunger than overwhelmed my being. I attacked with a ferocious growl, teeth clamping on his neck. Blood spurted forth into my open mouth and I drank in large gulps. It was the answer to the unspoken question; blood was the life. My knowledge expanded as I drank deep from the life force. Blood banished weakness from my body, creating me into a new being.

When I felt the life drain from his body, I dropped him with a thud on the floor. Licking my lips, I savored every spilt drop. His blood was flowing through my veins now; my heart beat with a rhythmic pattern. 

I went to the mirror to be certain the blood was gone from my face. When beheld its reflection, I let out a scream. "Dear God!" I exclaimed, the words burning my tongue. The mirror showed a perfect image of the bed, the bloody body, and door, but it did not include me. I had no reflection. 

Shaking overcame me. What had happened? Who was I? The name Bartholomew seemed so strange to me. Who was I? A young count who feasted on human blood and had no reflection. I had awoken in a coffin, and only now it struck me as odd. 

"Vampire," whispered a voice in the back of my mind. "I am a Vampire." A smile overtook my face, though I could not see my appearance, I knew it was a sinister expression. "My name is Count Dracula." There was no fear now. Bartholomew was dead and I, the greatest creature in all the world, had arisen in his stead. 

The memories are fading now and the blue flames are dying. Soon the night will be over and I will be forced to hide from the sunlight. A feeling of remorse comes over me, sadness at the loss of the person I was. It is a strange emotion, one I do not embrace on any other night of the year. Perhaps next year I will turn my mind to the thoughts of the woman I loved and how I, seduced by her fair beauty, turned her into a Vampire and lost her soul to the blood of evil. Perhaps I will remember how I killed the entire army of Austrians that threatened my existence. Perhaps I will think upon Horatio, the only person for whom I could keep my thirst in check.

It does not matter. These memories only come to plague me once a year. And tonight, I will be distracted. Tonight, I have a visitor. This Jonathan Harker will allow me to leave the confines of the castle and become the being I was destined to become. I will be a god! And after tonight, there will be no reminders that I ever was a man. __


End file.
